Free Basilisk by Rob Thurman Page A

Cascade Falls liked their tourists for the most part. But they didn’t like ones that messed with their citizens. The sheriff waited until the one on the ground stopped puking, handcuffed him, and shoved him into the back of the car. “Assaulting a minor is no way to spend your vacation, son.” Before he pushed his sunglasses back up, he winked at me to let me know it was a good time to pretend to be as young as I looked—seventeen instead of the twenty I almost was. “You call us next time you have some out-of-towner giving you trouble, Parker. Harry,” he said, tipping his hat, “nice moves. You done your daddy proud.” Then he was in the car and gone.
    Maybe he’d recognized one of his own—a soldier of sorts. Although, from the premature beer belly on Sheriff Simmons, it’d been a long time since he’d kicked anyone in the ribs, which was, if you thought about it, great cardiovascular exercise. I’d have to look into the sheriff again. I’d underestimated him and his skills, former or not. I was really beginning to lose faith in my background checks.
    Stefan folded his arms. “If I had a woodshed you hadn’t blown up, I’d take you behind it and beat some sense into you.”
    I didn’t bother to roll my eyes, the threat not worthy of a response.
    â€œSeriously, what did I tell you, Misha? Don’t let anyone see what you can do. Although making that fat bastard puke his guts up in the street. . . .” He swallowed the grin that surfaced and went for a more somber tone. “If it’s to save your life, do what you have to do. Absolutely anything you have to do. If it’s just a jackass messing with you, come get me and I’ll make him sorry his father bought that on-sale cheap-ass expired condom. But if it’s not life or death, keep what you can do secret, okay? Or we’ll have more than the Mafiya and that hellish place that took you after us.”
    I said pointedly, “Because pounding him to a pulp was much more subtle.”
    â€œNo, but it’s not science fiction, so do what I tell you, all right? Now, are you done testing those teenage boundaries? The ones you missed while you were under that bastard who took you? Get it all out of your system, defying the big brother?”
    Yeah, my brother was smarter than I have given him credit for sometimes. In matters of emotion, he was five Mensa levels smarter than I was. “He was a dick,” I said stubbornly.
    â€œMichael, in life you’ll discover there are a million times more dicks in the world than there are shitheads to fucking hang them on,” he snorted. “It’s not right. It’s not fair, but we have to work around it. You keep your Superman powers out of sight and I’ll beat the crap out of anyone who messes with my family. Illegal, sure, but not science fiction.”
    Superman . . . that was so far off base, I didn’t bother to go there. Like any other nineteen-year-old, I wanted to take care of myself. But unlike any other nineteen-year-old, I could take care of myself. I could take care of myself in a way that could leave the streets littered with bodies. My brother was right. He usually was. And like any other nineteen-year-old, that made me sulk for a while.
    But, hey, the word “dick” had come to me naturally. That was something.

Chapter 3
    â€œ Y ou be kind to Stefan. He deserves that.”
    â€œKind” was an odd word to come from a man who may have killed as many as the man who’d kidnapped his son, but he’d meant it. It was the only thing he’d meant as he’d talked to me the time when both Stefan and I had been shot by Jericho and his men. I was different then . . . and now. . . . I’d healed much faster than Stefan, although I’d been shot in the chest and he’d been shot in the leg. The bullet had broken his thighbone, which caused him to limp in cold weather. Me?